Monday 13
Darwin. First port of call was sorting the windscreen out. O’Briens was the company to sort us out. With the ute in, we walked into the city and had a beer and hot chips down by the water front. We looked, let me re-phrase, I looked pretty rugged in my red dirt-stained shorts and shirt. Clearly the odd ones out in the city. “Ohh well who cares babe”.
“ME!” Cath replies.
Windscreen fixed, we drove to a four wheel drive shop. We had lost a lens cover on one of our spotlights whilst driving on the corrugated roads. I rang around and found a place that had one in stock so we went and bought it and put it on. It looked so weird on the front all shiny and new. The whole front end had a dusty orange colour so the new transparent clean lens stuck out like a sore thumb. The old cover sitting next to it has a yellow tinge to it as it’s getting on. Eight years ago I bought them, so it was probably safe to say the old one had done its time. We would of like to of had a pair but there was no one else in town who had any so one will have to do for now. Fingers crossed the older one makes it home.
Tuesday 14
Honestly, not much to report today. A day of rest and staying at the Free Spirit caravan park offered not one, but three pools for us to lounge around in.
By afternoon, we took ourselves to the Darwin War Museum and the Museum & Art Gallery for NT for a cultural hit. The winners of the NATSIAA had just been announced and the place was buzzing. Downstairs they had a permanent exhibition on Cyclone Tracy that I found very intriguing.
Sorry guys, no photos were taken in Darwin.
Wednesday 15
After a late night, we were up early the next day for an oil change on the ute. It was well and truly due, 1,700 kilometers late. I normally always keep fresh oil in her and regularly change it every 5,000. But we tried getting her serviced when in Katherine but every one in town was busy, so she had to wait.
There was an air force exercise being held at the Darwin RAAF base. It consisted of (I may be wrong) fifteen different countries and over 120 fighter jets including Russian bought jets from India. Pitch Black it was named. Scheduled for a whole month they would hold real life modern warfare simulations and exercises both day and night. Jesus, are fighter jets the coolest thing on the planet! Best job in the world in my opinion but not at eleven o’clock at night when they’re flying overhead and landing one after the other. Their deep bellowing drone rumbles through your chest. Its impossible to have a conversation with someone at normal sound level, let alone go to sleep. We would lay in bed, “Bloody hell go to bed already!”.
“You what babe?”
Coming out from Kakadu, I had noticed a noise on the front right side of the car, like a bearing squeaking away. So I mentioned it to the mechanic when we dropped the ute off and he said he would check it over for me. Later when we picked it up, the mechanic had informed me that the bearing was fine but there was quite a bit of play in our steering rack ends and a small amount on the lower control arm ball joint. He advised us that before we took on the Gibb it would be best to get the rack ends replaced but not to worry about the ball joint. “The ball joints probably just dry and that’s where your hearing the squeak coming from mate” he said. They did not have the time to schedule us in and gave us a card of another mechanic so we gave him a bell.
A French guy answered the phone. “Ello”. I explained the situation and he said it should not be a problem and fitted us in that afternoon. We dropped our trusty Steed off and I asked him to have a check of the wheel bearing too while he was doing the work. I had a spare set of front hub and bearing assembly with us. Before we left we bought a whole heap of spares to carry. We had heard of some nightmare stories of astronomical prices of parts when getting them shipped into remote towns. So luckily I bought a set.
We took off for a walk around the city and ended up in the Botanical Gardens. Laying in the thirty six degree heat under the comforting shadow of a huge tree watching the sky as jets constantly came in to land, the French man Tom rang. “Ello I cannet find ze problem wiz za bearing under feel. It ez a zealed bearing, zo I cannet zee za ztate of it. I advize ve shange it az ve av zis une ere” he explained. “Sure Tom, go ahead”.
Walking back to Tom, Cath tripped on a slightly raised paving slab, “SHIT”. Her roman style sandle shoe had broke. Snapping between her toe. Unable to continue wearing it, as it flapped behind her foot, I thought it would be a better option if she wore my thongs and I would walk bare foot. How I was wrong. The path and roads were boiling. Like Charlie Chaplin, my over exaggerated arm movements flapping around with every step. It was agony as my soft virgin souls absorbed the heat from the floor. I don’t know if you have ever tried walking barefoot on a path? Any small stone would shoot pain up and would see me hopping around thinking it was a bit of glass in my foot. I’d check one foot while the other felt like it was in a frying pan. I hop from one shadow to the next. Standing sometimes on tip-toe in the small slither of shadow coming from a traffic light pole, as we waited to cross a busy road. Two agonizing kilometers later we had made it. Relief came as the last twenty meters before Tom’s garage was grassed. I could have been walking on clouds, it was heavenly.
Our ute was repaired and a quick photo with the ginger Frenchman Tom we were away again. But only back to camp as Tom had run out of time to get a wheel alignment done so we were booked in for the morning. Another night in Darwin it is then.
That night I examined my sore feet. They were black. Scrubbing them in the shower with half a bar of soap did nothing. One large callus had formed and they had become like my Mum’s. Crusty. I hope I don’t have to do that again, I told myself.
Thursday 16
Up early once again, the ute was getting re-aligned and we were on another walk around the city. This time, both in thongs. Alignment done, we drove to fuel up and go and find some more ten litre drinking containers. The grey nomads had taken them all. “Darn it, well have to get these goon bag style ones”. Stocked up and back down the road south bound the squeak started coming back. With no traffic and fighter jets around I stuck my head out of the car. Driving side to side and braking, accelerating, testing everything I could, I noticed the squeak was coming from the rear. I could of hit myself in the head. Why didn’t I get someone to check it? Why had I assumed it was coming from the front? It was definitely a bearing noise. We had just paid Tom to replace what was probably a good bearing and used up one of mine that I had for when we did need it. What a waste of time and money I said to myself. I had to deliver the bad news to Cath. She didn’t take it well. What do we do? Go back or carry on and hope it doesn’t seize before we get to Katherine. We called ahead to Katherine to find a mechanic. We found one. He was super helpful on the phone, and told us he would be available when were due to arrive in Katherine on Saturday. “Sounds like a bearing to me bloke. If there is no oil coming out you should have no trouble getting to me. Just take it easy. I’ll see you on Saturday, call me when you’re in town”. Sweet, what a legend. With a quick call to Lynne and Michael to explain the bad news, we were off again Litchfield NP.
Pulling the ute into a packed car park a Buley waterhole we found a spot. It was time for lunch. Standing making lunch we had a couple of blokes come up and check out the rig. We were getting a lot of interest. “Did you post this up on men’s advice mate?’’
“No, only on the Hilux forum” I replied.
“Yeh I saw it on there, it’s a sick rig dude!”
“Cheers”. Lunch made, we needed a swim. Once again it was stinking hot. Another day of thirty six degrees.
Buley swimming hole consists of a rocky river system, with fast flowing water rushing down it creating a bank of small waterfall’s and a couple of deeper rock pools. There where people scattered all the way up it. Sat in-between a lush small canyon, full of green vibrant trees. Life is healthy out here whenever there is water present. There were no steps to get in, just ledges. We had to jump in. Holding Cath’s hand over the wet rocks I guided her down to the rock ledge. “One sec babe let me get my footing, shall we jump in together?” With that I pushed her in.
“Hahaha how is it? Cold?” She smiled at me and said it was refreshing. I dived in.
Next stop was Florence water hole situated a couple of kilometers down stream from the Buley water hole. A long staircase down into a basin cut out between the rocks. A man made path had been constructed. A small bridge crossed a flowing channel of water, and weaved around trees and up stream towards the falls. An easy walk on a tiled path made from the rocks that were sourced from the river banks etched its way out and opened up. The paths web expanding out, circling the trees that lay out at the bottom of the falls and creating a large area for people to cool in the shade. Florence’s double waterfalls plunged one hundred feet down into a deep rock pool below. A bowl shape basin sat at the bottom of the falls. The water slightly colder as it cooled through the air from its descent down. Fish of all sizes swam in schools in its transparent cool waters. It was a spectacular sight, simply beautiful. We were in awe of its setting, the sound of crashing water bellowing out in the bowl shaped basin that it lay in. Taking to the water we swam underneath one of the waterfalls. A vertical rock ledge plummeted down deep below us. The rock wall slippery giving little to no opportunity to get a hold on. The water crashing down on our heads, reducing visibility and made it impossible to hear anything. I found a tiny ledge, just about big enough for one persons feet. I grabbed Cath and pulled her close while she was frantically clawing at the rock like a cat, trying to find relief from the force of water beating her down. We managed to get a foot on each and one hand on a small ledge above. Unable to see or hear each other we stood huddled to one another on this ledge. It felt amazing, almost as if we had the place to ourselves. Im not sure why it felt so good as we just stood for a minute or two. Eyes shut and just listening. Maybe a sense of achievement that we found a ledge and were standing under the waterfall without it pushing us away? Was it that we were actually on this trip and living our dream? Or just being able to share an experience with my wife that I had never done before, or all three combined? What ever it was, I will never forget it. It will be something I will treasure forever. You will have to come and try it for yourselves.
Old four wheel drive camp, it was called where we found camp for the night. It was pretty busy but we found a spot far down the back, about fifty meters from the same river coming from Florence. We set up camp early. One of the last spots, like-minded four wheel drives came, unlucky, in a bid to find a spot. We had dinner and washed up early and made our way up to the protection of our fly screens in our tent before dark set in. Listening to the sound of the water flowing along its course set in this beautiful landscape, we fell asleep.
The Cooks.
TotallyCookd. 